“What are you suddenly going on about.”
“…I’ll be on my way.”
The sudden shift to formal speech made Yeon Haejeong’s face darken sharply. Knowing exactly what that shift meant, he grabbed the arm of Munyeong, who was turning away without hesitation. The emotions surging inside Munyeong — who had been trying his hardest to stay composed — began to rise in waves he couldn’t hold back. He didn’t want to show this chaotic feeling, he wanted to run, and the hand that was stopping him from doing so felt almost hateful.
“Hey. I’m not done talking—”
“Managing Director.”
“……”
Munyeong called his name quietly. A still, calm gaze settled into Yeon Haejeong’s field of vision.
“……Please let me go….”
It was a plea that conveyed how desperately he wanted to be away from this place. A bitter request that carried within it the wish to not be held anymore — to not be shaken anymore. Those eyes, always so composed and steady, were visibly wavering. Yeon Haejeong’s own eyes widened in something like surprise, and he flinched, letting go of the arm he’d been gripping without thinking. It was in the faintly trembling voice that he understood. That he had made some grave mistake.
The moment Yeon Haejeong let go, Munyeong fled the place as though running for his life. Yeon Haejeong stood there, frozen in place. As though he had just taken a blow to the head. He lingered over the sensation still remaining in his hand, and stayed rooted to that spot for a long while with a dazed, out-of-character expression that didn’t suit him at all.
After work, Munyeong boarded a bus home and stared out the window with a worn, vacant face. The colors of the setting sun settled over his lashes. The bus was quiet. A DJ’s murmuring voice drifted through the radio, and the few passengers inside were either asleep or bent silently over their phones. A lonesome stillness hung in the air. Munyeong’s face, drenched in the colors of the sunset, looked all the more desolate and sunken.
It had been the hardest day he’d had since starting this job. There had been difficult days before, but this was the first time it had been this hard — both inwardly and outwardly. Executive Director Hwang’s demeaning words and rough treatment had hurt, but it wasn’t the first time something like that had happened to him, so it hadn’t dealt him any tremendous blow.
Not that it didn’t affect him at all — that would be a lie. The insults that dredged up his absent parents left a raw ache in him every time they came. He had long since grown numb to being looked down on, but strangely, hearing people curse parents he didn’t even have was what made him feel particularly sad. The thought came on its own — that since he’s the kind of person who gets his parents insulted by strangers, since he can only amount to someone like that, maybe that’s why they threw me away. And alongside that, as a bonus, the thought that maybe it was a good thing they threw him away — for turning out like this.
He was trying hard to live a good life, but it wasn’t easy.
Everyone probably felt that way — the people visible through the window, the people riding this bus, all of them the same — but on days when he couldn’t help feeling like he was the only one struggling, his heart and his head both went cold and sank. Of course, it wasn’t that every time something like this happened he necessarily fell. Someone worse than Executive Director Hwang had been tormenting him.
‘Stop deluding yourself.’
That look of utter disbelief.
‘Who do you think you are. What do you think you are.’
A tone mocking him for having had such a grand delusion.
‘What exactly do you think you have to offer me.’
Pressing him down with facts he already knew better than anyone. He had always heard these things, but today, for some reason, they were harder to take. He felt embarrassed at himself for having deluded himself, and more than anything — the fact that he was hurt just from hearing things he already knew, simply because they came from Yeon Haejeong’s mouth, made him feel most pathetic of all.
A feeling that had lived in him for more than ten years. A feeling he had thought was completely gone without a trace. The fact that it had hurt him meant it was coming back to life. That feeling of caring for Yeon Haejeong.
That couldn’t happen. He was no longer a child who couldn’t tell up from down, and in a situation like this, falling for Yeon Haejeong again was out of the question — and something he didn’t even want. Besides, he was too exhausted to care for someone again.
“…Ugh.”
Munyeong desperately pressed down on his hand as it suddenly began to spasm. A pain that was more than ten years old, yet somehow felt brand new every single time. Munyeong gritted his teeth and covered his violently trembling hand with his other one. For some reason, today of all days, even this symptom felt more heartbreaking than usual. He didn’t want to feel this way. A vague, formless sadness was setting in.
A faint sound escaped through his clenched teeth. Swallowing the pain and holding it back, feeling a bone-deep exhaustion, Munyeong stared blankly out the window again. It felt like a signal. Don’t repeat the same foolish mistake.
Munyeong gazed at his ceaselessly trembling hand and found himself drifting back to the memory of that time.
Things always happened where you least expected them.
‘You finish today’s quota before you leave — that’s the only way you get paid.’
‘Yes.’
‘If I find out you dumped them or burned them somewhere, forget the pay. I’ll be watching every move.’
The karaoke bar owner eyed Munyeong, who was in his school uniform, with a distrustful look as he handed him a thick stack of flyers. Plenty of students came in looking for part-time work, but every time he seemed to find something unsatisfying about them — his manner made it clear he resented having to ask them at all.
‘Yes, I’ll work hard.’
It was during the time he was doing flyer distribution work in the entertainment district after school hours. It was an area packed with nightlife establishments, but the only places that hired high schoolers without parental consent were the illegal ones. His after-school job was to hand out flyers, and then clean up the shop after closing.
He was in the thick of a crowd, frantically handing out the 500 flyers in his hands. Neon signs blazing garishly overhead, the swaying mass of drunk passersby, the rush of people cutting through on their own way somewhere — and in the middle of all that, a familiar someone caught Munyeong’s eye. It was impossible not to notice.
A solitary figure, staggering along with no particular destination. A large frame made to look small by the pitiful, stumbling gait it moved in. Something about the way he looked felt precarious, and Munyeong hurried after him. Thinking he should support him in case he fell, Munyeong followed — but the figure kept drifting further and further into alleyways where the crowd thinned.
Following without thinking, eyes fixed only on that back, Munyeong realized he had ended up somewhere unfamiliar, somewhere draped in silence. Watching Yeon Haejeong’s steps lurch and sway, he could tell Yeon Haejeong too was just walking — aimless, without destination. This couldn’t continue, so Munyeong quickly closed the distance between them. Just as he was getting near, a dark van pulled up and stopped along the road close to Yeon Haejeong.
Sensing that something was off, Munyeong’s steps quickened. He already knew Yeon Haejeong was going through something hard. After accidentally overhearing his secret in the gymnasium storage room, he had been able to understand — at least a little — the inexplicable rebelliousness and the warped edges of his character. That didn’t mean he pitied him. He was just a little worried about someone who seemed wound tight and angry at something every single day.
The uneasy premonition proved right. The men who got out of the vehicle exchanged glances with one another, clamped a white cloth over the mouth of the staggering, drunk Yeon Haejeong, and forced him into unconsciousness as he struggled.
‘Haejeong—!’
Munyeong, stricken with horror, launched himself at them without a moment’s hesitation. It was the entertainment district, but it was the dead of night, and foot traffic in that particular spot was relatively sparse.
Munyeong grabbed Yeon Haejeong’s legs as they were being shoved into the back seat of the car.
‘Who — who are you people?’
The men, dressed in all black and concealing their faces and bodies, also seemed thrown off by Munyeong’s sudden appearance and hesitated.
‘Why — why did you knock someone out?’
Munyeong asked as sharply as he could manage while straining to pull the unconscious Yeon Haejeong back out from the rear seat of the car.
‘He’s my friend… my friend, so why, why……’
The eyes of the large men looking down at Munyeong struggling to support Yeon Haejeong narrowed with menace. They then exchanged glances with each other and grabbed Munyeong’s shoulders, forcibly tearing him away from Yeon Haejeong.
‘Ugh!’
Thrown to the ground without being given a moment to register pain, Munyeong shot back up immediately and grabbed blindly at Yeon Haejeong’s arm, which had been seized by the men. Sensing the danger of the situation, Munyeong cried out fast.
‘S-someone help! Help!’
The area was sparse, but around the corner it was a bustling entertainment district swarming with people. Munyeong kept a stubborn grip on Yeon Haejeong and kept hammering his fists down on the arms of the men who wouldn’t budge. Suddenly, the words Yeon Haejeong had once said came to mind — that in a fight, it’s all about nerve. Munyeong, who had never thrown a punch or a kick in his life, lit a fire in his eyes and threw himself at the men.
‘Where — where are you taking him? You can’t. Don’t take him!’
Munyeong screamed, face on the verge of tears, hanging on with everything he had. As though irritated by the commotion Munyeong was causing, the men pulled a baseball bat from the trunk and swung it without warning. The metal rod came down on his right arm, but Munyeong did not let go of Yeon Haejeong with his other hand. If anything, he shoved his body against one of the men and wrenched Yeon Haejeong toward himself.
‘Let go. Unless you actually want to die.’
That was the day Munyeong first understood that the threats and intimidation the kids at school used were laughably small things. The low voice, saturated with genuine killing intent, turned Munyeong rigid with a fear so overwhelming he nearly lost control of himself — yet even as he shook violently, he didn’t let go. Instead, he stared the man down and screamed again.
‘S-someone save us! Help! Please, someone help us!’
